The night air was crisp as you pushed open the balcony door, feeling the buzz of alcohol in your veins. You’d come out for a breath of fresh air, needing a break from the party inside. That’s when you saw him—Simon, standing against the railing, cigarette in hand, smoke curling into the dark sky.

But what stopped you in your tracks wasn’t the sight of him smoking. It was the fact that he wasn’t wearing his mask.

You blinked, trying to reconcile the familiar, rugged man before you with the faceless operative you were used to. The scarred, strong features that had always been hidden now exposed in the dim glow of the city lights. He looked over as you approached, his sharp eyes catching your slight stumble from the drinks.

“Didn’t think I’d see you out here,” you said, surprised by how different he looked, yet still undeniably him.

He took a slow drag from his cigarette, the ember flaring as he studied you for a moment. “Needed a break,” he said simply, his voice low, gravelly as always, but there was something softer in it.

You leaned against the railing beside him, closer than you normally would, maybe because of the alcohol. “No mask tonight?” you asked, trying to sound casual, though the sight of his bare face still threw you off.

Simon glanced at you, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “Does it bother you?”

You shook your head, feeling the alcohol loosen your thoughts. “No, it’s just… different. Didn’t expect it.”

He exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his gaze drifting out over the city. “Can’t wear it all the time.”

You stood in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds the distant hum of the city and the quiet crackle of the cigarette. There was something strangely intimate about the moment—his face uncovered, the cool night wrapping around you both.

After a while, you turned to him again, eyes catching on the cigarette between his fingers. “You gonna share that?” you asked with a playful tilt of your head.

He looked at you, amused, before handing it over. “Don’t get used to it,”